


Carpool

by Schnickledooger



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Artemis has had enough, Friendship, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Mostly one-sided, Trolling, no children were harmed they were actually quite clever here, slight Traught, this fic is for laughs and for amusement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24095005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schnickledooger/pseuds/Schnickledooger
Summary: S1. Artemis knew there had to be a catch to attending Gotham Academy. She just hadn't expected it to be sharing a carpool with Dick Grayson in his limousine along with his two troll partners, Bette and Babara. Looking back, Artemis could figure out the exact point where everything went downhill was when Grayson started bashing on the codenames.You have to feel sorry for them. The kidnappers, that is.Slight Traught if you squint.
Relationships: Artemis Crock & Dick Grayson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 161





	Carpool

Artemis self-consciously tugged her skirt down lower and wished that the Gotham Academy dress code required a hat to complete the uniform. At this very moment, she really wanted one to squash the brim low over her eyes so she wouldn't be able to see the gawking stares of her neighbors as they gaped at her and the long, black, sleek limo that had just pulled up to the curb right in front of her.

She couldn't help be but a little embarrassed. She and her mother didn't exactly live in the "upside" of Gotham. They weren't even middle-class citizens. They weren't in the poverty-range, thank goodness, but they certainly didn't live the comfortable life either. It was always a struggle to pay the bills and obtain the basic necessities required for that month. Their neighborhood reflected that style of living. So Artemis was certain her neighbors were wondering what on earth a limo was doing slumming it in a place like this and what she thought she was doing decked out in a fancy-nancy academy clothing and pretending to masquerade herself off as a rich kid.

Actually, Artemis, asked that herself every day too.

She reached for the limo's door handle, wanting to be out of public sight as quickly as possible, but a voice called out stopping her.

"Oh, no, please, Miss Crock, allow me. It is my duty to accommodate my passengers, remember."

Artemis stepped back, her cheeks flushing red at her mistake that obviously showed her station. A real rich kid would have known better. They wouldn't have thought twice about standing idly by and having their chauffeur open car doors for them.

Still, the smile the elderly chauffeur gave her as he pulled open the limousine's back door seemed warm and genuine, not condescending at all. Artemis turned the corner of her mouth up tentatively in a return as she climbed into the backseat hurriedly. At least this time her mistake wasn't so colossally glaring as the first time she attempted to ride in a limo... when she had opened the front door and plopped herself shotgun next to the poor, baffled chauffeur. That had been utterly humiliating in hind sight.

The door closed behind her and Artemis couldn't help but morbidly think that her fate had just been sealed: another morning of being trolled for half an hour before she arrived at school.

"Morning, Crock!" crowed a young male voice full of jubilant, unholy glee. "Did you sleep well last night? Any good dreams? Most importantly, were they about me?"

The worst part about it was that Artemis didn't even possess the freedom of telling Grayson to drop dead. He was the ward of Gotham's Golden Boy, billionaire Bruce Wayne, the man who had awarded her the scholarship to attend such a prestigious school as Gotham Academy. If she offended Grayson, she offended her sponsor. She could never face her mother if she botched this opportunity presented to her. She could never face herself either if she lost her cool due to an imp-grinning, devil spawn, genius kid two years younger than her with too much gel in his hair. She simply had to grit her teeth and bear it.

Luckily, she did seem to have made one ally at school so far—an ally, who conveniently also rode the same carpool.

"Don't be a dick, _Dick,"_ Bette Kane sniffed, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the boy she was sitting next to. "Artemis doesn't need some driveling freshman sniffing around her skirt. And the last thing I want to hear is some besotted pubescent boy spout stupid sonnets before Homeroom.”

A mischievous twinkle sparked in Grayson’s blue eyes at her words and Artemis barely had time to groan inwardly and wish for earplugs before the most ridiculous lines of poetry were spewing forth from the boy’s lips.

_“Come chill with me and be my girl,  
And we will take Gotham on a whirl,  
The streets and alleys, clubs and shops,  
And all of high society’s stuck-up flops.  
  
“All we desire will arrive on silver platters,  
Milkshakes and cheeseburgers ,  
We’ll be the envy of all who surpass,  
The king of math and the queen of sass!”_

Grayson has just spouted some parody of “The Passionate Shepherd to His Love” point blank without thinking. How exactly were you supposed to respond to that?

Bette gave her the answer a split second later:

_“But the boy weaves an incredulous tale,  
Doomed from the start, destined to fail,  
This fair youth will not be swayed  
Of a foolish fantasy of some rich boy’s façade.”_

Tossing a lock of her curly blonde hair over her shoulder, Bette hid a tiny smirk in the corner of her mouth and locked gazes with Grayson whose narrowed, cool blue eyes mirrored hers in competition.

 _This is why I’m failing Literature class,_ Artemis thought to herself. Gotham Academy kids were on a whole different level of flirting and rivalry. And since she didn’t want to spend the next fifteen minutes stuck in a production of Carpool Theater, she tried changing the subject quickly.

"Why'd you take a picture of us together on my first day?" she asked Grayson.

"Oh, that,” Grayson beamed broadly. “That was to show our future children how their parents met, of course."

If she didn't know better, Artemis would have thought Grayson was hitting on her. The worst part about it though, was that he wasn’t an overt, womanizing flirt like Kid Dork. He was more matter-of-fact blunt about it. Like those guys who go up to a girl at a party and tell them where and when their date was going to be before they were even introduced.

Guys like that usually ended up getting punched in the face when they tried that move on her.

She was eternally grateful when the limo’s next stop en route was to pick up Barbara Gordon.

“Morning, Alfred,” Barbara greeted as the elderly chauffeur opened the door for her. Artemis made a mental note to remember the name so she could thank him properly next time.

“Good Morning, Miss Gordon,” Alfred replied shutting the door behind her as she slid in next to Artemis. A few moments later he was back in the driver’s seat and starting the engine again.

“How’s everybody doing today?” Barbara smiled.

“Dick has decided to become a poet,” Bette said.

“A poet?” Barbara echoed, casting a curious gaze over Grayson. “What happened to your shining aspiration of educating Gotham’s children on the values of math by becoming a top billboard rapper?”

Artemis felt the corner of her mouth turn upwards in a grin. “Wait, a math rapper?” Now _this_ was genuinely interesting news that held significant blackmail potential by the way Grayson was squirming uncomfortably in his seat.

“Oh, yes,” Barbara was all too gleeful to share. “Dick was kind enough to recite some lyrics for me awhile back. Let me think now…” It didn’t take her long to remember. Barbara had a fine-tuned memory that had won her countless spelling bee awards.

“Yo, yo, it’s Rap Master R, ain’t here to ridicule, but it’s high time you boys and girls get schooled! Now you learned your ABCs and you learned your 123s, they’ve upped the game, it’s about to get crazy, sharpen your mind kids, don’t let ‘em grow hazy! There’s Algebra, Calculus, Trigonometry, Physics—just a fraction of one fourth is gonna be tough—”

“Alright, Babs, that’s enough!” a red-faced Grayson finally snapped. “I was nine when I made that up, _nine!_ And I told that in confidence—” he glared at Barabara. “We pinky swore!”

“Dick, the world needs to be filled up more with your creative ingenuity!” Barbara said between fits of laughter.

“That last part doesn’t even rhyme, though!” Artemis hooted.

“I know, right?” Barbara laughed.

“It’s called Consonance, you ill-literate barbarians!” Grayson snarled defensively.

“Maybe you can become a poet after all, Dick,” Bette said flashing a smirk as she applauded.

“I can’t wait to share this,” Artemis said gleefully. Today was a good day.

“Breathe a word of this to anyone, Crock, that goes for all of you giggling harpies, and I swear one day I will catch you unawares and shave off your boyfriend-baiting, luscious locks!” Dick growled.

“Master Richard!” Alfred admonished sharply from the driver’s seat, having overheard the entire conversation but remaining quiet, content to let the children chatter expressive nonsense. “It is not gentlemanly behavior to threaten fine ladies in such a cowardly, uncouth manner! Do I need to inform Master Bruce he is raising a young hooligan?”

“Alfred, they’re gonna tell the whole school!” Grayson protested. “I was gonna run for Student President this year! This will totally ruin my image!”

“Oh, do not exaggerate, Master Richard,” Alfred said, giving the boy a stern look in the rearview mirror. “I’m sure you have already copyrighted those lyrics and will charge anyone who recites or posts the words on paper a hefty fine. People have run for president with far worse past history than an embarrassing childhood elegy and won. Take the teasing like a man, good sir.”

Grayson flopped backwards against his seat with an angry huff and crossed his arms. Keeping his eyes straight in front of him in order not to catch the gaze of any of his amused classmates, he spotted the blockade on the road ahead along with Alfred.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the metal crosswalk barriers that had effectively cut off their route from the upcoming intersection.

“What in the world…” Alfred trailed off as he came to stop and put the limo in park. “There were no reports of any street events or automobile accidents along this trajectory. You children stay inside while I check out the premises.”

“Let me come too!” Grayson spoke up.

“No, Master Richard, you must remain fast by these young ladies’ sides and defend them if need arises,” Alfred commanded.

Grayson looked stricken. “But—”

Alfred shot him A Look. Artemis wasn’t sure what to make of it. It lay somewhere between stern chastisement and don’t-test me-young-man and all he did was purse his mouth into a thin line and quirk one eyebrow slightly. Grayson swallowed and nodded.

All the doors locked automatically as the elderly gentlemen shut his side behind him. Artemis watched as he made his way over to a uniformed police woman standing behind the barriers and tip his hat in greeting. Her stomach twisted in unease. There was something not right, but she didn’t know what.

“Hey, does no one else find it odd that it’s morning rush hour and yet we’re the only car here?” Barbara frowned as she eyed the empty lanes around them.

Artemis started as she took in the eerily deserted road. That was it. It was usually bumper to bumper on their drive to school. Where had the traffic gone? And now this blockade that made no sense. It felt like… a setup.

Her head whipped back towards the direction of Alfred just in time to see the old man fall to his knees and then slump over to the ground, limp and motionless. The police woman did nothing except nudge the fallen body with the tip of her boot non-too gently.

“Alfred!” Artemis cried, lunging forward over the seats to grab the door handle. She may have forgotten exactly where she was at the moment and that the uniform she was wearing wasn’t her hero identity. Years of training with her father and Cheshire overrode her senses and her Fight or Flight mode kicked into full gear. And she had never been one to retreat in a dangerous situation.

“Artemis, _DON’T!”_ Grayson shouted at her as she pressed the unlock button and flung open the door.

Later she would remember this and find it odd that Grayson had called her that when they were definitely _not_ on first-name speaking basis or why his commanding tenor had sounded so familiar, but right then, it completely passed over her head.

Unlike the cool barrel of the gun that touched her forehead the minute she poked it outside.

“Back in the car now, like a good little girl,” came a deep voice in a cajoling manner.

Artemis cursed inwardly at herself for being so stupid. Of course there was more than one. That was Classic Bad Guy 101 and if Cheshire ever found out how badly she had let her guard drop, she would flaunt this mistake in her face forever.

A cool sweat collected on her brow as Artemis froze in place and contemplated whether or not she could disarm this guy. True, she was at point-blank range but chances were, he was just a basic average thug and not trained like she was. If she brought up her hands slowly like she was surrendering and pulled a frightened, teary-eyed school girl act, she bet she could break the guy’s wrist and get a hold of the gun before he knew what had happened.

Then a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her waist and yanked her back inside the limo. She fell back hard against the seat with Grayson still holding her in a strong, protective grip. For a second, Artemis was so enraged she wanted to punch him in the face. She wasn’t one of those simpering airheads that flocked around him at school and squealed at his aerobic routine in the gym. She could take care of herself, dammit!

“Be cool, Crock,” Grayson whispered, his blue eyes darting to meet hers briefly before looking back to the open car door where their captor stood.

It was the way he spoke so calmly. The lack of fear on the face of someone who had just witnessed bodily harm done to his butler, though Artemis knew by now that Alfred was so much more to Grayson than that. The way he put one hand over her own and squeezed it gently before relaxing his tight hold as if to reassure her not to panic or do anything rash.

Barbara shifted next to her though she didn’t say anything; the motion jarred Artemis back to her senses. She wasn’t a hero right now. She was just a kid whose transport to her school had just been carjacked. She didn’t have any arrows or other weapons on her and even if she did, she couldn’t have used them in front of her classmates without them raising questions later. Even if she was able to fight fairly well with her bare hands enough to escape, she couldn’t just abandon the other three. Artemis bit back a groan as she realized she had to go along and play it safe until the carjackers got what they wanted.

The man who had threatened her slid into the driver’s seat and with the gun still pointed in their direction, pressed the unlock button for the front passenger’s side. The police woman, or his accomplice who had been posing as one, hopped in a moment later.

“Well, you were a lot faster at getting them to open the doors than I gave you credit for,” the woman laughed, tossing off her cap to reveal brown, frizzy hair pulled back tight into a bun.

She was rather plain looking. Artemis didn’t recognize her off any of the lists from either her team’s persons of interest or her father’s targets. She hadn’t even seen her face broad-casted in the Gotham Daily News yet. She was probably some D Grade wannabe villain fresh off the streets looking for a con to get some quick cash. How pathetic.

“Goldilocks gave me some help,” the man said issuing the gun at her. He was wearing a black ski mask over his face but she could still see his lips twist into a mocking grin.

Artemis gritted her teeth in irritation. How pathetic was _she_ to have so easily fallen into such an obvious trap. She deserved every taunt that Cheshire threw her way.

“Guess we didn’t need Mothman after all,” Frizzy Hair sighed as she tapped something into her phone.

“The what now?” Artemis asked, feeling like she had heard wrong.

A heavy thump was heard overhead followed by a harsh pounding on the sunroof’s window. A moment later, a man decked out in a raggedy bomber jacket and a blue knit hat leaped through the top of car’s opening which had slid back to open and landed directly in front of them.

“Aww, I don’t get to shoot out any windows,” the man sounded disappointed. He grabbed the rifle slung across his back and mounted it over his knees towards them ominously.

“The windows are bullet-proof,” Grayson informed him in a neutral tone like he was commenting on the weather.

A heated flush broke out across Artemis’ face. They would have been safe in the car if it weren’t for her.

It was Barbara who spoke up next, her voice frosty. “What did you do to Alfred?” she asked shooting a poisoned glare at the woman decked out in the fake police outfit.

“Don’t ask nosy questions, kid, or you’ll end up the same as the old man,” Frizzy Hair warned her.

Artemis felt her breath catch in her throat, but it was Grayson who answered the question. “It was a taser, Babs, don’t worry. He’s just knocked out, that’s all. She’s new at this game and lacked the courage to shoot.”

Frizzy Hair threw an angry, narrowed scowl at him. “Your mouth as sharp as your eyes, huh, rich brat? Then you know what the next step is before I tell you, so do it before Mothman’s hand slips on the trigger.”

The guy in the bomber jacket unleashed a hysterical, high-pitched chuckle as his left leg began to bounce sporadically, the rifle swaying to and fro in an unsteady rhythm.

 _Of course there always has to be at least one deranged, psycho on the bad guy’s team,_ Artemis thought unimpressed. She was at a loss of what the “next step” was though.

Grayson sighed and reached slowly inside the front of his blazer to pull out his cell phone, Barbara and Bette following his suit. Artemis’ mind blanked temporarily as to where she had put hers before she fished it out of her schoolbag and handed it over along with the others.

Frizzy Hair looked mollified as she tossed all the cell phones into a bag, before breaking out a baton from her cop uniform and bashing them all into little pieces with sadistic pleasure.

Beside her, Grayson winced at the sound of cracking glass and plastic, while Artemis had to stifle a shriek of outrage. Good cell phones were expensive and she couldn’t just buy another one anytime she wished. There were more important things like groceries! She really shouldn’t have been too concerned about this issue with the long barrel of the rifle staring her down from psycho Mothman, but this morning was really starting to drag on her nerves.

Beneath them, the limo roared to life as the man in the ski mask revved the engine and did a quick U-turn before speeding back the way they had come down the empty road.

Artemis craned her neck backwards trying to see Alfred but at the speed they were going, he was already long out of sight.

Grayson patted her arm as if to comfort her. “He’ll be alright, I promise. It’s not like this is the first time this has happened.”

Artemis stared at him, wondering what he meant, wondering why on earth flirty, trolling Grayson was taking this hostage situation so lightly, when Bette crossed her arms and leaned her head back as if bored.

“Ugh, not again. I keep telling Daddy it’s safer just to helicopter to school, but he wants me to socialize more. I don’t think this is what he had in mind.”

“You owe me a new cell phone, Dick,” Barbara leaned across her to glare at her friend. “That one was a birthday present.”

“Y-yeah, Grayson!” Artemis joined in, seizing the opportunity. “This is all your fault. You owe _all_ of us cellphones!” Then her head caught up with her mouth and she realized how ridiculous she sounded.

She was getting kidnapped and she was harassing some rich kid for a new phone. Oh God, attending Gotham Academy had warped her view on First World Problems.

Frizzy Hair was having the time of her life laughing at them. “Maybe you girls should rethink your decisions dating some spoiled rich brat that has half the undergrowth of Gotham after his skinny hide.”

“I’m not dating him!” Artemis squawked indignantly.

Bette scrunched up her nose at the suggestion. “Ew.”

Barbara just frowned at Grayson. “Exactly how many times have you been kidnapped on the way to school _before_ you oh-so politely extended that carpool invitation of yours my way?”

Grayson tugged at his collar looking sweaty. “Umm…”

“This is my third time with him in two months if you’re interested,” Bette said.

 _“Dick!”_ Barbara howled.

“You got that right!” Artemis snarled as she recalled her own carpool invite had been only two weeks ago.

“I’m sorry!” Grayson cried as he was caught in the cross-fire. “I thought the kidnapping attempts would tone down if there were more people with me! You know, more people, more media attention, more spotlight, more manpower hunting the bad guys down, more heavy sentencing when they’re caught, blah, blah, blah.”

“Wrong, Wayne brat, you just dragged your little harem into the jackpot along with you,” the man in the ski mask said. “Ripley, find out who they are and we’ll ransom them all.”

Frizzy Hair smirked cruelly at them but before she could issue any threats, Grayson piped up sounding genuinely curious.

“Ripley? As in _Alien?_ And Mothman? Those are Codenames, right? That’s brilliant! None of the other thugs ever were smart enough to do that! _And_ they all had really boring names like Carl or Hank. Hey, what’s yours?” Grayson asked the man in the ski mask. “You have one, right? I have to know! Tell me, I’ll bet it’s awesome!”

Artemis wasn’t sure if Grayson was acting like a five year old on purpose or stalling for time. Either way, she doubted the man in the ski mask had actually thought of one by the way he hunched over in the seat and tapped his finger irritably on the wheel. But apparently, he decided he was not going to be a boring kidnapper named Hank when he cleared his throat and said with great bluster, “You can call me Black Mask.”

There was a long silence as Grayson stared at him incredulously. “You do know that name is already taken, right?” he said sounding almost concerned. “I mean, it belongs to some other bad guy whose villain level is ten times way worse than yours and if he ever finds out you stole it, there will be hell to pay.”

Looking back, Artemis figured out this was the point where everything went downhill.

For the kidnappers, that is.

Grayson continued to ramble as the guy drove on, his voice rising with urgency for his captor to change his mind. “It’s for your own good, I promise. You name it, Black Mask has done it. He’s like the top dog of Gotham’s underground mafia but with connections to assassins and tech-savvy super genius evil scientists. Oh, I know all of this because I did a report on him for Social Studies. Anyway, I’m pretty sure he patented the name Black Mask too, because one time when Wayne Enterprises tried to put out this new sleeping mask on the market—it had a built in radio and earplugs—they had to name it something else because they received an anonymous lawsuit filed against them. Identity theft is taken very seriously in court. Of course, with kidnapping, that’s a twenty year federal offense, but who’s counting? Anyway, once you end up in prison, and you will, and one of Black Mask’s lackeys found out you used his name, you will end up as one of their guinea pigs for their twisted science projects.”

There was an awkward pause now with both Mothman and Frizzy Hair gaping at Grayson who hadn’t stopped talking for a full three minutes before shooting tentative glances at their get-away driver. The man in the ski mask had the steering wheel in a death grip so tight, the back of his knuckles had turned white. Through his shirt, his back muscles were stiff with rage.

“My name is Black Mask,” Not-Boring-Hank drawled out through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, not gonna listen to my advice, ok. I’m not calling you that because that’s just dumb,” Grayson said before turning to Frizzy Hair. “And you are not cool enough to be Ripley. You are now Ms. Frizzle,” he ignored the woman’s sputters of outrage and eyed the guy in the bomber jacket. “You stay Mothman because you are crazy enough for it to fit.” Mothman clapped enthusiastically, his rifle swinging precariously between his arms. “And you can be…” Grayson hummed thoughtfully as he came full circle back to the guy in the ski mask. “Yeah, I got nothing, so I’m just going to call you Raccoon Dog.”

Artemis’ teeth rattled as the limo swerved violently down a side road.

 _“Ripley, get the blasted kids’ names right now!”_ Not-Boring-Hank roared as he pressed down harder on the gas pedal. “I want the pleasure of putting this little punk under the needle myself!”

“Oh, you made him mad. You’ll regret that later,” Frizzy Hair clucked as she took out a tablet and started scrolling down the screen. “No need to ask who you are, Miss Kane,” she said.

Bette gave a little shrug of her shoulders and shot Grayson a dry smile. “I’m getting to be as infamous as you at being held hostage, thanks.”

“Why, Barbara Gordon, this is a delight! How wonderful for you to join us!” Frizzy Hair cried as she held up the tablet showing off a photograph from what looked like an online file.

Artemis peered closer and noticed that she had somehow hacked into their school’s system and accessed the private student directory complete with pictures.

“Gordon?” Mothman spoke up suddenly, his voice deepening to a growl. There was a manic gleam in his eyes as he took in Barbara’s red-hair and facial features as if seeing her for the first time. “You the Commissioner’s kid, girlie?”

Barbara stuck out her chin defiantly, not all disturbed by the man’s dangerous tone. “What of it?”

Mothman began to cackle. It started low in his throat then bubbled over into a loud, hiccupping racket that had him near wheezing for breath. His fingers twitched crazily around the trigger of his rifle as if itching to fire it. “Your pappy and I don’t see eye to eye. Maybe he’ll finally hear me out this time ‘round.”

Barbara never let her fearless mask waver, but Artemis felt her body tense beside her.

“Hey, Frizzle-face, what’s your magic mirror say about me?” Artemis asked, if only to draw attention to herself and away from Barbara.

She thought it might take the woman longer to find a match, but it took her less than half a minute before she found her picture.

“Artemis Crock,” Frizzy Hair said looking up at her and back down at her file. She pursed her lips into a thin line obviously not liking what she was reading. “Sophmore Year. Transfer Student from Gotham North. Scholarship Awarded. Oh dear…”

Artemis felt her stomach drop as she recognized the familiar tone. It was same condescending, fake compassionate tone Sportsmaster used before offing one of his targets.

Mothman perked up excitedly as he caught on. “Scholarship, that’s what rich people give away to the poor to make themselves feel better, right? Pity Money, hehehehe.”

The tips of Artemis’ ears were burning and she balled her hands into fists in her lap to refrain from doing something stupid. It was nothing she already knew. She wasn’t delusional to think she was on the same playing level as the Gotham Elite’s kids. Except keeping close company with Barbara, Bette and even Grayson this long, had sort of numbed her memory that she wasn’t truly one of them, would never be one of them, and now she was going to pay the price for daring to forget that little fact.

“Sorry, blondie, nothing personal, but I don’t think your folks can afford us,” Frizzy Hair said.

Not-Boring-Hank gave the order that sealed her fate: “Get rid of the extra baggage.”

Mothman aimed his rifle at her with a happy, feral grin stretched wide.

If she was going down, she was going down with a fight. Artemis braced her legs under her in preparation. She was going kick that rifle barrel up towards the car’s ceiling. Then she was going to uppercut the psycho straight across his throat, cutting off his air supply. When he started gurgling like a baby, she was going to knee him in the gut. Then once he was doubled over in pain, she going to vault over his back like an Olympic Gold Medal winner and bash in both Not-Boring Hank and Frizzy Hair’s faces with the soles of her combat boots that she still wore despite it not being school dress code.

That’s what she had planned out in her head in the precious few seconds she had to spare before she was abruptly stopped by Grayson flinging both arms around her and pulling her close against his chest in a smothering embrace.

“What?” he exclaimed aghast. “You guys aren’t thinking of hurting my gorgeous, ridiculously filthy rich fiancé, are you?”

To say that Artemis was half-relieved would be true. To say that she was equally half mortified would also be true but twice more accurate.

Grayson put one finger to her chin and tilted her face toward him. The romantic gesture was kind of pointless as Artemis was a good head taller than him even sitting down. “She’s too whelmed by her feelings for me to speak,” he said to make up for her lack of response.

Again, it was only later, for that comment to register in her mind. At that moment, Artemis’ brain was balancing between doing loop-de-loops of “what-the-hell-is-happening” and resisting the urge to bite Grayson’s finger off.

Grayson’s ruse seemed to be effective though. Mothman had lowered his rifle and was scratching at his head through his knit hat looking confused.

“You said you weren’t dating him,” Frizzy Hair said to Artemis, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“I’m not,” Artemis croaked out even though this refute was not helping her any. She was still in shock at the fact the people actually thought it was plausible for her and Grayson to be in that kind of relationship.

Luckily, Grayson was a smooth-talking, efficient liar. “Ok, I’ll admit, this engagement wasn’t our idea. It’s more like a business deal between Wayne Enterprises and Crock Industries. You know, two rival companies at war with each other, neither wanting to do an official merger, but sacrificing their heirs on either side is a great compromise! Artemis went undercover at our school to experience plebian life that she will be marketing to, and also for a chance to get to know me better. We had no choice in the matter, but I do find her strikingly attractive and I think she’s slowly coming around to the idea of me.” Grayson waggled his eyebrows and hugged her to him more closely. “Face it, I’m irresistible!”

“Irresistibly nauseous,” Bette murmured under her breath.

Artemis wished she was in a position to agree with her, but at this point, it was all she could do to be still and try to look content and happy in Grayson’s arms. She reached out and pinched his cheek with more force than necessary. “He bought me the Eiffel Tower as an engagement present, how sweet was that?”

Grayson looked at her like she had lost her mind but went along with it. “Uh, yeah, yes I did. All for you, honeypie.”

Barbara was gawking at them with her mouth slightly ajar like she was watching a train wreck and couldn’t look away. Bette had pressed her forehead against the car window and was muttering something about “private tutoring until I graduate”. Mothman was jutting out his lower lip in a pout, clearly upset he wasn’t going to be able to shoot anyone anytime soon, and Frizzy Hair looked ready to bust a vein in her temple.

“You can’t just _buy_ the Eiffel Tower! Not even wealthy bastards like you!” she shrieked pointing at Grayson. “It belongs to the general public!”

“Well, now it belongs to me and my sugar-princess,” Grayson cooed, lacing his and Artemis’ fingers together. “And we already decided we’re gonna paint it. What’s your favorite color, babe?”

“Red,” Artemis said without thinking.

Grayson choked down what sounded like an ugly snort of laughter. “Red,” he told Frizzy Hair. “It’s gonna be red and we’re gonna turn the middle observation deck into a private cat café. Because we can, because we’re filthy rich.”

Frizzy Hair promptly exploded. “You aren’t honestly believing this brat’s fantasy fish tales!” she screamed at Not-Boring-Hank who had been listening to everything without a word.

Artemis felt Grayson’s fingers tighten around hers and realized they might have taken the charade a bit too far over the edge.

Not-Boring-Hank only shrugged. “Four kids, four times the ransom. If we find out they’re lying, we’ll take care of them later.”

The first dredges of hope stirred in Artemis’ chest because later was fine. She didn’t plan on still being kidnapped later.

A shrill beeping broke her concentration on numerous escape plans formulating in her mind. She looked around for the source as it sounded very close by and realized it was coming from Grayson’s digital watch. A split second after, Grayson lost all composure.

 _“Sunuvabish!”_ he swore as he looked at the time. Any traces of a laidback, submissive hostage had been erased from his face. He looked absolutely furious and his shoulders had begun shaking in tiny trembles of anger. His blue eyes which were always twinkling full of mischief had gone suddenly stormy as he blasted a freezing glare at their presumed kidnappers.

Presumed, because in the next few minutes, the kidnappers soon discovered why so many of their predecessors had attempted an abduction upon the Wayne carpool and failed miserably.

“You bastards made me miss math class! I’m supposed to be taking the AMC exam right now! Do you know how long I’ve prepared for this day? Do you know how much I’ve dreamed of knocking Tobias Wittenberg and his smug face out of first place in the test results?!” Grayson yelled, looking very unhinged. “And instead of robbing a bank or something easier, you three decide targeting me is your winning lottery ticket? _Big mistake!”_

Artemis rather thought it was more the kidnappers’ fault that they chose to let Grayson rant on like that than to bind and gag him. Sportsmaster had always taught her when your opponent is engaging in monologue, never allow them to finish, because there’s always an attack at the very end.

Grayson’s weapon of offense was a shiny black fountain pen he pulled out of his vest pocket. It happened so fast, Artemis almost missed it. One moment it was in his hand and the next it was sticking out of Mothman’s right knee. Mothman jerked violently and screamed, yet even through his pain, his brain still functioned enough to hoist his rifle up and take aim at the boy.

Artemis reacted on instinct and kicked out with her leg knocking the barrel upwards. A shot rang out as the bullet tore into the car’s ceiling interior.

“Moth, what are you doing?! We need him alive!” Frizzy Hair screamed, whipping out a gun from her holster.

A second later, she was smacked hard across the face courtesy of Barbara’s backpack. It hit her with enough force she propelled forward into the windshield, cracking her head on the glass, and then slumped down across the seats with a moan. She didn’t get back up.

“That’s why you should always wear a seatbelt!” Barbara screamed upon her deaf ears.

At this point, Grayson and Mothman were tussling over the rifle, yanking each other back and forth in a vicious game of tug-o-war, when Bette shouted out, “Down, Dick!”

Grayson let go and ducked, burying his face into the crook of his elbow just before Bette held up a keychain ring dangling with sparkly charms and sprayed Mothman square in the eyes with a small bottle of mace. Mothman collapsed on the floor in a fetal position wheezing and crying.

Which left only…

“YOU LITTLE BRATS!” Not-Boring-Hank bellowed as he turned the limo into a tailspin so sharp it sent everyone reeling sideways.

Artemis’ neck snapped to one side so swiftly she was sure she was going to have whiplash later. Her head spun dizzily as the limo continued to do crazy figure eights. The sound of screeching tires on the road grated terribly on her ears, yet she still heard the single word Grayson uttered as he gripped her arm.

“Hairband.”

She understood immediately. Artemis reached up, yanked it off, her hair falling in messy blonde locks around her shoulders, and aimed it like a sling shot.

 _“Hey, Raccoon Dog!”_ she shrieked.

Predictably, Not-Boring-Hank jerked his head around towards her.

The hairband got him directly in the left eye. There may have even been a few drops of blood splattered too. The man let go of the steering wheel to clutch at his face and scream.

That’s when Barbara bashed him in the back of his head with her backpack which Artemis was beginning to suspect was not carrying merely textbooks. Not-Boring-Hank went down like a rock, sprawling heavily on top of the unconscious Frizzy Hair.

The limo drifted out of its mad spin and came to a slow coasting stop.

A tiny groan came from Mothman still curled up in a ball on the floor.

Bette stomped his nose in with the heel of her penny-loafer and he went silent.

Artemis breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, it was all over.

Grayson unbuckled himself, bolted forward over Mothman, uncaring if he stepped on any delicate parts of his body, and tumbled into the driver’s seat, grabbing the steering wheel.

“What are you doing?” Artemis asked, because surely he wasn’t thinking of…

“I am _not_ missing the AMC exam!” Grayson exclaimed, a wild glint in his eyes reflecting in the rearview mirror as he pressed down on the accelerator.

Or tried to. But alas, he was just a pubescent boy who had not achieved his growth spurt yet and his legs were too short to reach the pedals.

Grayson cursed as he began flicking buttons on the driver’s door and making seat adjustments accordingly.

“So you weren’t just making that story up as a distraction,” Artemis said still in disbelief that anyone would crave going to school this badly all to take some math quiz from hell.

“Dick, stop, we just escaped ransom, torture and possibly death,” Bette said. “Let’s not tempt the fates anymore today, please.”

“Yes, let’s call the police from one of their own cell phones and let the school and our parents know we are safe,” Barbara said as she began rummaging around Mothman’s pockets.

The limo’s engines roared to life as Grayson’s feet finally made contact with the gas pedals.

“Everybody, hang on,” he said, as the vehicle surged forward with ferocious speed enough to fling them all back in their seats with the force of it.

“Do you even know how to drive?!” Bette shrieked, clutching at her door’s handlebar, as the buildings flashed past in a blur.

“You don’t even have a driver’s permit!” Barbara screamed at him, jostling up and down as Grayson drove the limo over a series of speed bumps. “Do you know how many laws you’re breaking?!”

Artemis’ breath was stuck in her throat as the limo squeezed down a narrow alleyway and popped back out into a world where traffic had resumed on the streets. Grayson weaved the car to and fro between lanes, speeding through a red light at the intersection and then making a right hand turn without giving a signal. Her life was flashing before her eyes and so far, it was a pretty dismal one. On top of that, there was a small flicker of indignation that she might acquire a permanent scar in a car crash caused by an overly-zealous math nerd instead of a weapon by a worthy opponent. Pathetic. Again, something for Cheshire to laugh at.

“Tobias Wittenberg can choke on my high score results!” Grayson whooped in excitement. “There’s still half an hour left until the class is over! I can make it! Nothing can stop me now, hahahahahahaha!”

“Blind lady at 3’O clock!” Barbara cried, pointing to the right as an old lady with sunglasses and a white-tipped cane stepped onto the crosswalk.

Grayson jerked the wheel to swerve widely around her and the limo cut through three lanes, mercifully avoiding the oncoming cars, and somehow ended up on the sidewalk on the opposite side ploughing through outside dining tables and news crates, and narrowly avoiding mailboxes. Thankfully, the limo was so enormous and loud, people heard it coming before seeing it and dove out of its way. At this point, Grayson seemed to come back to senses by his face draining color and him pushing frantically on the brakes, but by the time he applied pressure, the limo had already cleared the end of the sidewalk’s block and had fallen back onto the road off the curb. They fell back into the fast-flowing traffic at a hazardous slow pace and they all screamed.

Grayson was screaming still high on adrenalin. Bette was screaming out of pure fright. Barbara was screaming because she was livid with rage at her friend who had put them all in this predicament. And Artemis was screaming because she was certain they were all going to die.

They braced themselves for an impact that never came. A dull _thunk_ was heard was something latched onto the trunk of the car; they were reeled backwards off the main intersection and onto a one-way side road like a fish on a hook.

Artemis blinked wondering what had just happened. Up front, Grayson slouched low in the seat and rested his head against the steering wheel. “I’m _so grounded_ ,” she heard him whisper in despair.

A dark shadow fell across the windshield and Artemis bit back a yelp of surprise as Batman appeared outside the limo. His eyes narrowed in displeasure beneath his mask as he peered through the tinted windows. “Out,” he barked in a gruff, commanding voice.

You didn’t argue with Batman. Bette opened her side and clambered out of the limo, Barbara and Artemis trailing after her, and stood single-file in front of him looking like three bedraggled puppies. Bette had a run in her usual pristine white stockings. Barbara was clutching at her backpack on which the zipper had broken and a couple of dumbbells could be seen within. Why the girl was bringing her own exercise equipment to school was a mystery. Artemis found herself self-consciously running her fingers through her hair in a vain attempt to make it look less messy before she gave up.

Batman assessed them, taking note that they were no visible injuries, then turned to the limo and Grayson who had yet to emerge and pulled the door open. “Are you hurt, Mr. Grayson?” he asked and Artemis thought his gruff tone sounded slightly softer than usual.

Grayson finally let go of his grip on the steering wheel and sidled out of the driver’s seat to stand in front of him. “Just my pride,” the boy said, giving a lop-sided smile at his own joke.

Batman didn’t smile back, and there it was, Artemis could feel it in the air, the familiar brooding of disappointment radiating off him in invisible waves.

Maybe because he lived in Gotham and was probably sensitive to Batman’s presence, Grayson seemed to feel the aura too.

“Hey,” he said, throwing his hands up in defense. “We weren’t playing hooky, I swear! We were accosted by these three numbskulls—” he issued to the interior of the limo where the unconscious bodies of their would-be captors lay prone and unmoving. “Which we dealt with totally fine by ourselves. I was just trying to get us to school.”

“By taking a joyride on the sidewalk?”

Grayson winced in chagrin at that jab, but he obviously had nerves of steel, because he lifted his head and met Batman’s gaze evenly. “Well, you were late… sir,” he tacked on the address as if an afterthought.

Barbara had a strangled coughing fit and Artemis let out a little groan. Of course Grayson would be the only one bold enough to backtalk Batman.

“I was helping assist the police with a crime scene downtown,” Batman somehow felt the need to explain to them. “I was not aware of your predicament until your butler notified the station.”

“Is Alfred okay?” Grayson asked, blue eyes reflecting worry.

“He is fine,” Batman’s lips quirked up faintly before twisting back into a thin line. “I was informed to tell you that he will be waiting your safe return at the manor with a hearty luncheon along with any of your friends if they want to tag along.”

“Pass,” Bette said with a bone-weary expression. “I need to switch my spa and therapy sessions around. Oh by the way, Dick, I am hereby forgoing your carpool invitation. I will bike to school if I have to.”

Barbara nodded in agreement. “I can rollerblade there. It’s healthier for the environment anyway.”

“I’ll take the subway and walk the rest,” Artemis declared. It’s what she used to do for her old school, and she would no longer be subjected to Grayson’s atrocious trolling in the mornings.

“Fine, whatever,” Grayson was bouncing on the balls of his heels impatiently. “Look, Mr. Batman, sir, we _really_ need to get school right now. We’re already tardy and I have this highly important math exam—”

“Be that as it may,” Batman cut him off briskly. “I have orders from the Commissioner to take your four down to the police station to give a report on this incident and to identify the culprits who apprehended you.”

 _“They’re right there!”_ Grayson howled incredulously, pointing at the three motionless bodies in the limo. The boy’s face had swollen almost purple from indignation. “Why should we have to trek all the way across town to identify some pea-brained kidnappers who were stupid enough to be taken out by four kids?!”

Artemis rather thought he had a point, but watching him throw a temper tantrum in front of Batman was giving her bad case of second hand embarrassment. The manner in which he had helped mentally disarm their captors to the point of distraction, he had seemed almost heroic before. She had forgotten what an entitled rich brat he truly was inside.

“There is also the fact that you broke several road regulations with your reckless driving and you now have a civic responsibility to make amends for the havoc you caused,” Batman spoke the truth with a warning growl tacked on the end. “If you’re lucky and the law is feeling benevolent, your driving priviledges won’t be revoked until you’re 18. That is, _if_ your guardian, Mr. Wayne does not ground you indefinitely.”

Grayson cowered under Batman’s harsh glare, the barest whimper crawling its way out of his throat as he gulped.

oOo

**Mt. Justice. Three Days Later.**

“I don’t understand, Rob, we’ve been covering this particular mission for weeks and now all of a sudden, Batman just ups and drops you from it and expressly forbids us to share any intel with you about it. _What did you do to piss him off so majorly, my dude?”_ Wally cried shaking his best friend by the shoulders.

Robin wriggled out of the firm grip, eyebrows furrowing into a frown hid partially by the sunglasses he never took off. “That’s between Bats and me,” he said in a business-like manner, straightening his rumpled clothes.

Wally’s eyes lit up like a light bulb had flashed over his head. “Ooooh, is a civilian ID thing? It is, isn’t it? Come one, share with your bro, did you disobey one of Daddybats’ one thousand rules or something?”

“KF, _shut up,”_ Robin hissed, inclining his head to the rest of their teammates who were listening nearby.

Artemis was only half paying attention to the Twin Dorks anyway. She had her own problems. Apparently, her mother wasn’t keen on the idea of her taking the subway to school after her attempted kidnapping. Also, her mother thought it would be rude to refuse the Wayne’s carpool invitation since the Bruce Wayne was the one sponsoring her after all. So she had found herself sitting beside Grayson every morning since with no Bette or Barbara this time to deflect the boy’s wise-cracks and terrible flirtation skills. Although, looking back, she had noticed that Grayson had been throwing dodgy pick-up lines and bad puns at her only half-heartedly. She supposed Mr. Wayne had not let his ward off lightly with his irresponsible behavior of taking the limo out on a short-lived joyride through the streets of Gotham. _Good,_ she thought. Grayson deserved a little more discipline in his life. Sometimes, she wondered if he acted the way he did because he lacked the proper amount of attention from his guardian.

_“Recognizing: B08 Zatana.”_

Everyone lifted their heads as their newest on and off again member arrived through the zeta-tube.

“Artemis, why didn’t you tell me before? This is such big news!” Zatana squealed rushing over to her friend, black hair askew and rosy-cheeked in excitement.

“What is?” Artemis asked.

“Girl, don’t play coy with me! Did you seriously think you could keep something this big under wraps!” Zatana crowed as she thrust a newspaper in Artemis’ face.

 **Romance In The Air At Gotham Academy: A Secret Engagement Unveiled!** The headlines screamed at her in huge bold print.

Artemis’ stomach dropped somewhere in the vicinity of her knees.

 **Wily Wealthy Heiress Artemis Crock snags Boy Billionaire Beneficiary Richard Grayson in high-stakes charade game of love.** Read the next line in a two-sizes smaller font.

“Since when am I wily?” yelped Artemis.

“Since when are you wealthy?” Zatana teased knowingly.

By the rest of the team had gathered around curious to see to what the fuss was about.

“Artemis, you are engaged? Many congratulations!” M’gann exclaimed, hovering several feet off the ground in her enthusiasm.

“Is that the guy? Isn’t he as bit young?” Conner said eyeing the pictures the newspaper had settled on for their big scoop.

They must have used Grayson’s middle school photo, because his uniform was a different color than their Gotham Academy blue. Also, his hair was cropped shorter in a not-quite buzz cut and there was a gap between his bottom teeth indicating he had recently lost a deciduous tooth. Sometimes Artemis forgot even though Grayson was a freshman he had skipped a grade and was only thirteen years old. A child, he was literally a child.

Beside her, Wally exploded into a hysterical fit of laughter as he read the headlines. “Oh man, Artemis, you cradle-robber, _hahahahahaha!”_

Artemis punched him in the gut for that comment and he sank to the floor clutching his ribs laughing so hard tears were leaking out of his eyes. “Rob, bro,” he managed to gasp out with an expression like Christmas had come early. “Aren’t you gonna congratulate Arty? She sure knows how to pick ‘em, hahaha!”

Robin was not feeling the aster today however, probably due to whatever discord was going on between him and Batman at the moment. Instead of joining in on his friend’s playful banter as he usually did, the boy’s frown seemed to deepen, his lower lip curling back into a twisted snarl at the newspaper as if he were somehow personally offended.

“Don’t be ridiculous, this story is obviously nothing but a sham!” Robin said.

“I know right!” Artemis agreed, thankful for him surprisingly taking her side. “Where do they come up with this type of nonsense?” Most likely, it was one of those D Grade villains who spilled the beans to the media.

“ _‘The siren’s bewitching serenade lures in the lonesome heart of a forlorn orphan starved for affection and solace’?”_ Robin read some of the lines out loud in disgust. “What kind of cheap dime-store novella is this?!”

“Yeah!”

“And how can anyone think Grayson could be attracted to that thing they’re calling a siren!” Robin cried pointing at the photo they had used for Artemis.

“Yea—what?”

It wasn’t even an official yearbook picture. It was a blurred image some random pedestrian had snapped while Batman had been giving the four kids a pep talk on good civilian conduct and moral decision making even though it had only been one of them that was at fault for almost mincing them all into road-kill. Artemis’ hair was down around her shoulders matted and messy, her school uniform un-tucked and disheveled. She looked like she had slept in those clothes overnight and had just crawled out of bed not bothering to change.

“Grayson could have anybody he wants in the world!” Robin exclaimed in an oddly righteous fury. “He’s not choosing some giggling harpy who has boyfriend-baiting dreadlocks like _that!”_

Those words, they way the boy had phrased them, rang out in Artemis’ head like alarm bells and unbidden, the car-ride that morning before the kidnapping attempt rose from her memory: Grayson offended at them all over his math rap and yelling about threatening to shave off their “boyfriend-baiting, luscious locks” if they told anyone—after he had called them giggling harpies.

No.

Robin who was currently grounded by Batman for some misconduct he had committed.

No. Freaking. Way.

“I admit I do not know much about human courting customs,” Kaldur was currently speaking, trying to diffuse the tension in the air. “But I have come to see that Artemis does not make rash decisions—at least without thinking through the multiple outcomes first—and trust her judgment on this matter. As her friends, we should not be questioning her personal life. It is no affair of ours on who she chooses to be in a relationship with.”

Artemis ought to have been feeling grateful for Kaldur’s support and kind words. Instead she was boring a hole through Robin’s face like if she stared hard enough, his sunglasses would melt away to reveal blue eyes.

She had to know and Robin would never tell. There was only one way she could think of to catch him off guard.

“Tobias Wittenberg,” she said sharply.

Robin flinched.

Robin, who maintained a winning poker-face at every game of cards and who never broke his blank slate at a villain’s taunts in a dangerous situation, visibly _flinched_ like someone had cracked a whip over his head.

The blood rose to her face in an overwhelming wave of anger. She could her heartbeat pounding rapidly in her eardrums. “YOU!” she screamed pointing at him. She tried to think of some properly degrading insults to call him but the only thing that came out was, “YOU LITTLE TROLL!”

Her teammates stared baffled not quite understanding, except for Wally who had collapsed on his back and was rolling around on the floor, his mad cackling now underlined with hiccups as he lost it completely. Of course, he knew, that jerk.

Robin’s own anger seemed to fade away at whatever expression Artemis was making. A familiar, sheepish grin worked its way across his face as he held put up his hands and took a couple of steps backwards. “Crock, I mean, Artemis, don’t forget now, I bought you the Eiffel tower.”

He appeared to be taking defensive maneuvers towards the zeta-tube, so Artemis circled sideways, effectively blocking off his exit route. She didn’t have her arrows on her but that was fine, her knuckles were itching for a few good punches to throw.

“Come on, is it so bad to be engaged to me, honeypie?” Robin said, his voice lacking the bravado it usually carried.

“Every snot-nosed, pot-bellied mobster and their gold-digging mothers will be after us now!” Artemis yelled rushing at him, fists at the ready.

Robin whirled and dashed off towards the back of the cave with her following in mad pursuit.

It was a long chase, and perhaps if she thought about it, Robin may have actually let her catch him as an apology, but she got her revenge in the long run.

Her mother clucked disapprovingly at her black eye later. She knew her daughter’s involvement with the heroes, and it wasn’t the fact that she had been fighting that was disappointing. It was that Artemis had allowed herself a weak enough opening to be injured in retaliation.

“Got into a fight with a pesky bird,” Artemis shrugged with a satisfied smile, the swelling around her eye worth the pain.

Artemis had always wanted to sock Grayson in the nose. It was a dream come true really.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started writing this back in 2012. Yes, this has been sitting partially finished on my computer for eight years, omg. I feel old now. Anyway, we’re in 2020 and stuck in quarantine. Whachoo gonna do? Write that fic, woo-hoo! 
> 
> Reason for this fic’s existence: waaaay back in the day, I saw this awesome "reason to ship yj" pic with Bette, Babs, Dick & Artemis: "Because they probably carpool together" and I giggled at the thought of all four of them in the same limo together and knew I had to write something. In case you were wondering, yes, Barbara knows who Dick is in this fic, haha. Not Bette tho, but since Batman always rescues them, she figures they’re safe every time they get kidnapped.
> 
> So here ya go, I had fun writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it and made people laugh out loud. I love hearing that my writing made you do that. If you want to review and can’t think of anything to say, I love knowing what parts were some of your fav moments. Thanks!


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